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Bucky had always been extremely lazy. The fatter he got the lazier, and right now Bucky was at his fattest and laziest. Bucky before never really tried to do much for himself if he could help it, but that didn't mean he wouldn't do anything for himself. He used to walk by himself, when he could, he would get his own food, if he could, he would even wash by himself, when he fit in the bathroom.
Bucky now, though, had lost any sort of motivation to do absolutely anything for himself apart from feed himself. He would barely move at all, just the occasional shift in his position to accommodate the extra fat that he had accumulated before settling himself back for another two or three weeks. He didn't care about anything other than food and his own comfort. He didn't care about how he looked or smelled or sounded. He barely spoke more than five words that were not a demand for more food to Steve. Those words normally consisted of 'turn on the tv', 'help me move' and 'turn on the fan' -because being so fat was really, really hot-.
Bucky didn't notice what Steve did, or if he did he didn't care or give it a single thought. What Steve saw, and smelled, was a man who did nothing but eat, sweat and sleep in the same position without any care for how that could affect… well, the space around him. Bucky was dirty, having not washed in months. He wore a shirt so small it was almost ripping, stretched to its full capacity, to stay in place atop his massive chest, stained with grease and sweat and bits of fallen food. The shirt had been tight back when bucky first rearranged himself into his floor bound position, now it was constricting. And yet the shirt stayed on, Bucky being too lazy to take it off, as well as it serving as a sort of inbuilt napkin. It was quite honestly disgusting. To be frank, the whole scene was: Bucky, covered in grime, grease and sauces Steve prefered not to dwell on, greasy, long, unkempt hair, fat hands shovelling all manner of fat, calorific, unhealthy, fast foods into his mouth -he had given up on cutlery two months ago-, burping, farting and belching unfazed, surrounded by empty containers, bags and packages that Steve would spend almost an hour every night putting in bin bags to go outside while Bucky snored loudly through his mouth.
The worst of it, though, was the smell. Bucky didn't notice it, probably having grown used to it by that point, but it permeated the entire living room. A musky, sour and dirty smell that Steve tried everything he could to combat with sprays and open windows to no avail. It's almost like it had sunken into the walls.
That day, while watching Bucky rub his belly after consuming an obscene amount of trash food the minute after he woke up, Steve decided that he would make an effort to clean him. He could barely take the smell, and, to be honest -and dramatic, but maybe not- he was concerned about the biohazard.
So Steve, with the next pile of junk for Bucky to eat weighing heavy in his arms, prepared to tell him.
"Buck," he started. "I have an idea."
Bucky's only response was to belch loudly and reach for the food in Steve's arms.
Steve sighed and handed it to him, "I think it might be time to give you a wash, Buck."
Bucky grunted, "Don'… wan'a… move." He panted before shoving a fistful of fries into his mouth and burping at the same time. Without even finishing chewing, Bucky demanded more food. "Burgers."
Steve handed them to him, a bag full. "You won't have to move that much, I'll do it for you." Steve told him, almost pleading.
Bucky grunted again, followed by another belch. "Kay'" he grunted. "Jus'..." he paused to gather his breath and pant out, "More… Food."
Relieved, Steve got started. He began with taking a pair of scissors to the old dirty shirt. The minute it came apart, Bucky let out a loud groan and his chest spilled out in every direction, further widening his massive frame. Steve could only imagine the relief Bucky felt at having that shirt off.
The next thing Steve did was fill a large bucket with warm water and pour almost half of his own shower gel into it. Steve wiped down Bucky's back first, scrubbing him down and in his rolls. When he rinsed the cloth out, he marvelled at how dark the colour of the water was.
Moving on to his sides Steve got as far between the massive, and surprisingly heavy, rolls he found there. At the deepest point, Steve's arm was covered up to his elbow.
After having finished his sides, Steve rinsed out the cloth once again and couldn't help but squeeze his cock for some relief. Being so close to and touching every single inch of Bucky's fat he could had made him unbelievably hard. It had always been arousing for them, the weight gain, but fuck, Steve was realizing exactly how fat Bucky had made himslef, with thanks to Steve's enabling, of course. Over time they had both sort of gotten used to it, when Bucky got too big and lazy to make the effort to fool around and Steve spent more time taking care of Bucky's other needs, they had forgotten that this had began as a purely sex realted thing.
A loud burp from the living room reminded Steve of his initial mission. So Steve soaked up the rag and started on Bucky's massive legs. They were mostly obscured by the overtaking size of his belly that mounded up between them. They were mounds of cellulite and rolls, almost unidentifiable. Steve's cock throbbed at the sight of Bucky's feet, only the little, in comparison to everything else, toes poking out from a round, soft and squishy accumulation of fat in the top of his feet. His ankles were completely hidden, but Steve was able to get the rag between the tight space where the roll landed on the front of his foot.
By the time it was time to do Bucky's belly and chest, Steve's cock was aching almost unbearably. Bucky's belly was easy enough to get cleaned up, round and smoother than the rest of him and Steve took a moment to marvel at how incredibly deep Bucky's belly button was. His chest was soft and doughy, just like the rest of him. Bucky's tits rested heavily on his belly, hanging low and jiggling.
Being so close, Steve could hear and see clear as day the struggle it was to breathe for Bucky. His chest rose and fell and his breaths were heavy and strained. Bucky couldn't move his head much, the fat off of his neck and massive double chin impeding much movement. Not that that was a problem, the only places Bucky looked were in front of him to the tv and down slightly at his food. He took in deep, almost raspy breaths through his open mouth mostly, even when it was full of food. His cheeks were round, soft and obscenely pink, almost as if he had ran a sprint. The fat all around his face pushed his eyes almost closed and filled the out space above his eyebrows. The back of his head had three thick rolls and his ears were almost pressed to the fat of his shoulders and slightly sunken in.
Bucky never once stopped putting fistfuls of food into his mouth throughout the whole washing process, not even when Steve began scrubbing his face and neck. Now that he had reached and cleaned all the parts of Bucky he could get to without moving him, it was now time for Steve to convince Bucky to lay down on his back so he could get under his belly and between his massive legs.
All it took, surprisingly -or maybe not-, was the promise of even more food.
What Steve hadn't thought about before he was faced with Bucky's belly rising up and still almost halfway down his thighs was just that: Bucky's belly still took up too much space. His only option was to lift it and when he did he realized how much strength that would take. Steve figured it would be easier to reach his hand under with the wash rag and wipe him down that way until he couldn't reach and then lift Bucky's massive, and heavy, belly up to get tight up there.
The fat was heavy on his arm and it jiggled non-stop - almost like one of those water mattresses. When Steve finally got to the point where he couldn't keep that up, he gathered all his strength and hefted Bucky's belly up as far as he could. He used his elbow to support it and reached in. The first thing he noticed this time was the smell. the same musty sour smell but amplified and centered on one spot. That spot being right at Bucky's groin, a large mound of fat that spread his legs apart. Steve breathed through his mouth while swiping the rags as best he could and tried to clean him as far as he could across Bucky's massive fat pad, between his thighs and as close to the crease of his belly.
It was then that he heard a couple of panted out, breathless words that made him freeze.
"Ge'... me… off." Followed by a loud burp and more heavy breathing.
"W-what?" Steve asked, unsure if he heard right and almost afraid of the answer, whilst also massively turned on.
"Your-... mouth." Was what he heard next. "M'hard…"
Bucky wanted Steve to suck him off.
"I can't, Buck." Steve got out, suddenly breathless himself. "I- I- can't reach-"
"Don'… care." Bucky interrupted him. Steve was starting to feel his arm getting cramped and it was starting to ache. "Do it…" Bucky demanded forcefully, breathless. He took a couple of breaths to pant out, "I wan'... it… Now…"
Steve could say no, Bucky wouldn't be able to do anything about it, but that would put Bucky in a mood for at least a week -as per usual when he was denied, Bucky was spoiled. Steve didn't want that, for himself and for Bucky, so he leaned in as close as he could, letting Bucky's belly be supported by his shoulders instead -it really was that big. It was dark under Bucky's belly, so Steve used his hands to feel around for Bucky's cock. He found it by reaching deep into his fat pad and pushing the folds of fat back as much as he could. What he found was a small, wet, almost purple tip surrounded by fat poking out of the hole it was buried in. Steve had originally planned to use his hands, but with them already occupied with pushing all the fat away, his only option was his mouth. He lowered his head to the pathetic little nub and wrapped his mouth around it. He could still smell the musk and dirt and sweat, but he carried on anyway, trying not to think about what putting his mouth and Bucky's dirty, buried cock would do for him, his stomach twists just as his dick sends a powerful pulse of arousal up his spine.
It didn't take long for Bucky to cum, a couple of suckles and massaging the fat around what Steve presumes was the rest of his cock. When Steve emerged from beneath the fat, his mouth full of come residue that left a sour, salty, slimy feel in his mouth and throat, he could hear Bucky wheezing and panting. Then he watched Bucky shake his hand as best he could towards the empty food containers, a clear demand for more food. Steve sighed and headed to the kitchen with the wash rag and bucket.
He hadn't even been thanked for his efforts. No 'thank you, Steve, for almost suffocating to give me a blowjob', no 'I appreciate your effort to make me happy, Steve', not even a simple 'thanks'. But, alas, it has been like that for at least a year. Bucky didn't care for anything other than food and his own comfort. He was greedy, lazy and selfish.
And hungry, Steve added when he heard the strained grunt from the greedy, impatient pile of fat on the floor.
The rest of the day, Steve watched Bucky struggle to fill his mouth with his usual fatty junk and by nightfall Bucky had gathered enough strength, and air, to have Steve haul him up into his previous sitting position, legs spread, belly mounding out in front of him, resting on the mattress between his legs and reaching higher than was Steve though was possible for a human. His entire form jiggled and moved through the process and by the end of it Bucky demanded more food, too out of breath to speak. Nothing out of the ordinary, then.
Steve cleaned up all the mess from the food Bucky had already eaten and left him enough food for at least three days so he could eat until he passed out and then eat again when he woke up three hours later. When Steve made it to his own bed he was exhausted and his cock was still hard, it only took three strokes for him to cum.
When Steve walked into the living room the next day, all the food was gone and Bucky was snoring, covered in grease and stains once again.